


Juice'd

by TheStrangestHell



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (Cartoon 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Paranormal, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25896607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangestHell/pseuds/TheStrangestHell
Summary: Desperate to escape from her hell-home in Winter River, Lydia Deetz escapes back to New York City on the back of a suspicious job offer, only to find her new profession may not be all she anticipated…
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. Letters of Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Not me uploading a new work after 8 months of inactivity...  
> Yup. It's me uploading a new work after 8 months of inactivity....
> 
> Hi guys!  
> Life has been *insane* and I've had intense writers block so succumbed to my dark desires and started something new. I know I have three other works on the go, but they will not be forgotten! I promise they will be updated very soon.  
> This is something a little different. An entirely human AU set in present day. I wanted to do something out of my comfort zone, so I hope you will enjoy it!

‘No good I’m afraid.’ 

‘It’s a no here too…’ 

‘Oh this one looks good! Uh- hmm...never-mind.’ 

‘This is hopeless, I’ll never find somewhere!’ Screwing up yet another rejection letter to toss upon the steadily growing pile on the floor in anguish Lydia huffed, resting her face in the cups of her hands. She had been sat cross legged on the floorboards for so long things were starting to become numb from the waist-down. ‘You’d think even that 2-star pizza place would happily hire a misfit free-lance photographer with no camera,’ she scoffed. 

‘You’re just over-qualified,’ Adam was scanning another letter, eyes furrowed. He folded it neatly and placed it atop the pile of rejections, patting it a little. ‘Somewhere will be sure to snap you up real soon, you’ll see!’ 

Lydia snorted, heaving herself onto her back with her legs in the air. ‘God I need to get out of here.’ She had been living in the enormous house in Winter River for almost five years now. Her father and Delia were becoming nothing short of torture; her only saving-grace had been their roommates from the floor above. Barbara and Adam were like the parents she never had. Moreover that, they were her best friends. ‘I can’t take it anymore!’ 

‘I’m sorry hun,’ Barbara added her most recent read to the pile. Placing a hand on Lydia’s knee. ‘It must be so hard.’ 

‘No. I’m sorry for being so dramatic.’ Lydia couldn’t help it, the sheer frustration was enough to drive her insane. Still, she felt pretty bad lobbing the Maitlands within her complaints. ‘You guys are amazing, I’ll miss you more than anything! I just can’t deal with _them_ anymore.’ 

By _‘them’_ Lydia could only mean the spawn of the Devil. Despite her father and Delia being questionable most of the time, the two had managed to reproduce. The two rats named Dennis and Camila may only be young children, but were undeniably demons by rite. From the second they were born, the twins had become hell-bent on destroying Lydia’s moral; spending most of their time stealing her possessions, painting the gorgeous black lace clothes ‘happy colours’ and - perhaps most screwed-up of all - play-pretending to be the ghost of Lydia’s birth mother. The last crime usually depicted the tragic death of Vanessa Deetz, throwing herself from a bridge to tyrannical icy waters below; something the tins found great twisted pleasure in. One time, they had gone as far as to dump a bucket of freezing snow onto Lydia while she slept, promising her she would meet the same fate as her deceased mother. 

It took an awful lot of energy and will-power (as well as unfortunate knowledge that she could probably be incarcerated for it) to prevent Lydia from committing bodied-arson when it came to the twins. The final straw had been only last week, the twins throwing her beloved camera from the top of the stairs to the grotesque tiled floor below. The device had shattered all across the monstrosity of Delia’s design, spraying glass and plastic in all directions. If Charles hadn’t impaled his foot on a fragment of it, the twins would never have been verbally punished. He might as well have not bothered, for it was Lydia who chased the brats, sobbing, with an impressively realistic model of Jason’s bloodied knife. After having Delia chew her out however, Lydia had slammed her bedroom door and began writing hundreds of letters of application to every hiring establishment. Cut to the present and nothing appeared to be going in her favour. 

‘I can’t say I blame you much,’ Barbara rolled her eyes. A maternal figure by nature, Barbara was tragically unable to conceive. Despite it all, her love for the twins had been incredibly short-lived after they managed to demolish half of Adam’s Winter River model - something he had devoted half of his life to.The couple had absent-mindedly taken Lydia in as their own, despite the raven haired girl being in her early twenties. ‘If it weren’t for the store we’d move out.’

‘Even then I don’t think I could leave this beautiful place behind,’ Adam sat down next to Lydia, tapping the floor affectionately. It groaned rather ominously, almost in response to his caring nature. ‘Well, pack your bags kiddo!’ Adam waved a piece of paper over Lydia’s face, fanning her gently. ‘You’ve got a place of interest!’ 

Lydia shot up, snatching the letter from Adams grip, immediately pouring over it. 

‘No way,’ she breathed. ‘It’s in New York!’ She jumped to her feet, typing in the address of the store into her laptop. ‘I’ve not got a clue what the place is for though...ah well, nothing could possibly be worse than a life with the spawn of Beelzebub and the some full-grown Demogorgons. She scanned the letter, her brows furrowing. 

_Dear Miss Deetz,_

_Thank you for your application. After consideration, we would be delighted to invite you for a formal interview at ‘Juice’ this coming friday at 3pm._

_Please bring with you a legitimate form of ID confirming your D.O.B, home address and full name._

_You will find our address below._

_With regards,_

_G_

‘There’s no information about the store. What’s even crazier is I have no recollection of applying for anywhere called ‘Juice’, what kind of a name is that anyway?’ She folded up the letter, tossing it on her bed. Bending down, she grabbed a small black suitcase from under her bed and began ransacking her drawers for a few essential possessions. ‘The interview is tomorrow, I’m gonna have to catch a train first thing in the morning.’ 

‘But Lydia, why are you packing?’ Barbara asked, watching as the girl hurried to her bathroom, switching on the yellow light which flickered exhaustedly. 

‘Well, I might have to work on the spot, who knows!’ Lydia came running back out, holding a toothbrush, paste and some bottles of soap and shampoo. The items were chucked rather unceremoniously atop the few clothes the twins had managed to miss. ‘I’d rather pack than be stranded.’

‘Very sensible to be prepared, Lydia!’ Adam looked as if he might cry from pride. Barbara snorted. 

‘Besides,’ Lydia zipped up her case, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her shorts. ‘I could do with some time away from this hell-hole.’ 


	2. Chapter 2

The train journey had been entirely uneventful. Snow had started to fall, chilling up the windows and trapping Lydia’s breath inside chilling clouds of condensation. She had neglected to pack anything warm aside from a large black overcoat, which she now wrapped around herself: huddled on a seat in the freezing morning air. She had slipped out of the house at little after 4 am that very morning, leaving nothing but a painfully dry note to her father. The Maitlands insisted on waving her off, handing her a flask of scorching coffee in return for a promise to email them as soon as she arrived. She couldn’t help but smile thinking about it. Their technological naivety was oddly charming. 

Now, she stood alone on the platform, back in the City she had longed to remain in. That was probably the only commonality she and Delia ever shared. She missed the business, the swelling crowds; how you could completely blend in and exist for a day as yourself. It was so early in the morning the city had barely started to wake up. Shops were only just opening, a few early-birds queuing for coffee and pastries to fuel their commutes to some 9-5 punishments. The snow continued to fall, droplets landing in her hair to kiss it white. A long blonde streak she had conjured compulsively stood out against the all-black ensemble she was huddled in. It was hardly 8.30 am and she had hours to kill before the interview. She shivered, knotting her hands beneath her coat and made her way over to a large coffee stand branded  _ Miss Argentina’s _ . 

‘Morning darling, what can I get you?’ The vendor was wadded up in an enormous faux turquoise fur coat, a bright pink hat atop locks of scarlet. She looked like a character straight from a modern fairytale. 

Lydia fumbled for her card. The only thing Charles gave her these days was an abundance of money so she was never short. It pained her to think of herself as spoilt, but knew deep down it was his way of keeping her busy and funding her interests. It was the best he could do as a predominantly neglectful father. 

‘Just a large hazelnut latte, please,’ Lydia’s breath froze in mid-air. She was beginning to kick herself for not planning to wear a jumper at least. Although, it wasn’t like she didn’t have the time to go and buy something to keep herself warm. 

‘What are you up to today, hmm?’ The vendor asked, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. ‘Beautiful creature like you can’t be working in an office, surely no?’ 

Lydia blushed. ‘I’m actually here for a job interview, I came up here this morning.’ 

‘Ah, fancy that,’ The vendor began steaming a large jug of hazelnut milk in one hand, using the other to prop her head up, her elbow resting on the counter. ‘Not many places hiring this time of year.’ 

Lydia felt her stomach lurch. ‘Y-yeah,’ she tried to laugh it off but couldn’t suppress the feeling of dread seeping into her. This was her last shot for a very long time at getting away from Winter River. 

‘Well, tell you what,’ the vendor peered down at Lydia with a look of immense interest. ‘You miss out on that job and you come work for me, huh? I work two jobs you know.’

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, I run the place and work down Scuzzo’s every night,’ the woman said, topping Lydia’s drink with copious amounts of chocolate powder. ‘Come down sometime, he’d hire a pretty little thing you right on the spot!’ She slid the drink across the counter, holding out a payment terminal. 

‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ Lydia tapped her card. ‘I’ll just have to wait and see what happens I suppose.’ 

…………. 

Clutching the steaming cup in one hand and dragging her suitcase with the other, Lydia meandered around the city. Most places had only just opened up, preparing to become brimming with customers or colleagues. She knew there was a sweet little store somewhere, a place she had lived and breathed her entire childhood. It was where most of her wardrobe had come from way back when. Her father had taken her shopping on several occasions before meeting Delia, happy to fund his daughter’s wardrobe and interests in hopes of distracting her from her mother’s passing; not that it had worked much. 

It had been on a day very much like this one, not long before Lydia’s 13th birthday. Vanessa hadn’t been a motherly figure, but she was Lydia’s whole world. Not a soul could compare to her beauty. Striking bleach white blonde hair and staring black eyes, she had effortlessly turned heads wherever she went. Tall and thin, she had always carried herself like royalty and refused to leave the apartment without crimson lipstick. But beauty can only be described as skin-deep and Vanessa was a porcelain doll. She’d shattered irreplaceably, drunkenly falling to her death off a snowy bridge while holidaying in the Appalachian Mountains. No one could explain how or why she managed to do it, but nothing could down out Lydia’s insistent wails of misery that it had been a murder. 

From that moment on, Lydia drew an obsession with death, the macabre and all things inbetween. She even swore to see ghosts during her adolescence, the subject of which led to becoming the ridicule of her school. It was partly the reason Charles had insisted their move to Winter River as ‘a nice, fresh start for everyone!’ With it came his new wife of two months and (not long after) the twins. It was far from the childhood Lydia had known and loved. A life of gothicism and devotion had slipped away in a fashion of a lace glove melting off skin. If there was one thing Lydia knew to be true it was that  _ life isn’t fair.  _

She ground to a halt, poised outside of a grimy hotel. It appeared to be half-falling apart, but a faintly glowing sign reading ‘Vacancies’ made the whole thing look like a palace. Lydia swung herself through an iron revolving door that required more pushing than automated movement, entering a dusty red-velvet foyer. The bell on the desk was heavily rusted and let off a dull clang when tapped. 

There was silence. Lydia heard a rat squeak faintly somewhere behind her. She tapped the bell again, taking a sip of the still scorching coffee. 

Silence. 

Perhaps no one was in? That would be pretty embarrassing customer service to have an open door and no host. Lydia raised her hand, preparing to tap the bell a third time. 

“Can I help you?” 

Lydia yelped, spilling coffee down her front. A tiny woman who looked to be about 150 was standing behind her, arms crossed. Dressed in a crushed black velvet dress with a tragically plunging V-neck - complete with aged ivory lace stained by cigarette burns - she looked the perfect ghost. If it weren't for the copious makeup and lit cigarette sticking from the corner of her lips, Lydia could have innocently mistaken her for a very belated Halloween decoration. Resting on the front of her attire was a dusty golden plaque reading: 

_ Juno. Manager.  _

“I’m so sorry-” Lydia gasped, patting the coffee on her coat in an attempt to ease the hazelnut bleeding over the wool. “I’ve just arrived and I’m looking for a place to spend a few days and-”

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Ah-what?” 

“A reservation. Do you have one?” 

“N-no.” Lydia was perplexed. The sign clearly said vacancies. 

“Perfect.” The old woman shuffled behind the desk, drawing out a heavy iron box coated in a layer of dust thick enough to cut. She took a minute key out of a pocket, twisting it in the lock to reveal even more keys - bigger in design and labelled with wooden slabs. “Here,” she slid a key numbered ‘13’ across the table at the girl. “That’ll be your room. We offer service upon request, breakfast is from 6am and dinner is from 7pm. It’s $62 a night.” 

“Right,” Lydia fumbled in her breast pocket, fishing out her card. 

“Cash.” 

“ _ Right _ .” Lydia said, through gritted teeth. 

………….

_ ‘It’s a bone chilling  _ _ 18°F here today; locals are advised to wrap up as much as possible weather conditions could seriously worsen over the course of the day. It may be snowing, but with great powder comes great responsibility!’  _

Lydia lay on her back, head dangling off the foot of the bed as the blonde weather-woman rambled on, winking a pretty grey eye to the camera as she dropped a poorly written snow-pun. It had been several hours since her arrival. An empty pot of instant noodles and an equally empty coffee cup lay on the dresser, the contents having been devoured mere moments prior. It had been a struggle to get cash for the woman at the desk. After a valiant attempt to request cash back, Lydia had finally found a convenience store who took pity on her. People didn’t seem too ready to chat, a distinct feeling of apprehension was blanketed over the city; but this had been solved pretty quickly. According to some home-made flyers plastered to several posts, there was an alleged unknown killer on the loose. Whether satyrical or serious, Lydia didn’t know or care. So long as she got a job, nothing mattered too much to her. If there was one thing Lydia didn’t fear, it was death. 

_ ‘And now, back to the studio, where Kevin has word on the recent string of murders shaking the city.’  _

Lydia shut the TV off. As irritating as it had been to set it up, she had very little interest in what a studio had to say on a potentially fake killer. She rolled onto her front, flicking a stray noodle piece off of the bedsheets. 

An alarm rang from the upper corner of the bed and Lydia instantly scrambled for her phone. 

REMINDER: interview in 20 minutes 

With a stretch, Lydia heaved herself off of the bed, standing on the freezing floor in her socks. There would be time for contemplating the allusive murdurer later. Running a hand through her hair and annoyed to find it problematically knotted, she heaved her coat on, wrapping a large red scarf she had snagged from the convenience store along with the noodles. It wasn’t particularly soft but anything was better than snow creeping down her back. 

It didn’t take long to reach the minute lobby again. The woman was still at the front desk, head bent over a paper that looked at least 30 years out of date. Lydia didn’t dare wish her a goodbye. Just as she was about to reach for the rotating bars, the woman’s voice croaked from behind her. 

“Off already?”

Lydia grimaced. Forcing a smile, she turned to face the woman. “Yes. I have an interview.”

“Hmm” The woman huffed, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “No place respectable hiring this time of year.” 

Lydia couldn’t think of a response. She was very close to running late and still had to figure out just where this store was...or  _ what  _ it was. 

“Well, I’ll be back at some point. Bye.” Lydia hurried out of the door before the woman could say anything else. 

…………….

It had been a search to find the shop. The map downloaded to Lydia’s phone had been anything but helpful, sending her on a wild goose chase for a precious 5 minutes. Thankfully, she had made it with time to spare. 

The front of the store was extremely inconspicuous. A glowing neon green sign floating in a blacked out window read ‘OPEN’, a large red arrow stretching one side of the door frame, pointing directly over where one would walk. A bigger neon sign, pink and glowing was at the top of the front. 

J.U.I.C.E

_ For the strange and unusual _

Eyebrow raised, Lydia tucked her phone in her pocket, withdrawing a slip of paper in its place. Well, there was no going back now. 

‘Hello?’ Lydia poked her head around the shop door, a little bell jangled above her head, announcing her arrival. ‘Anyone around?’ 

The store was perfectly still except for an ancient ceiling fan swirling rather precariously, lazily blowing the stale warm air around. Lydia slipped inside, clutching her resume to her chest. The tinkle of a gentle bell announced her arrival, yet no one came to inspect the new visitor. 

‘What kind of a place is this?’ Lydia grimaced at the tiled carpet which looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. It had lost its colour, leaving a nasty grey-ish blue, complete with ominous stains. Without the garish red and green LED lights, the room itself looked as if it would have a yellow-ish tinge to it (thanks to some ancient paint). Even though the colour choices were questionable, the space exuded a sultry vibe, one which almost covered up the state of the shop itself. 

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the lights, Lydia raised a hand to squint at the toom at large. It was bigger than she had anticipated, with a fairly low ceiling. Now that she was looking around, she came to the horrible realisation that the space was full of- 

She let out a gasp of horror. This had to be a joke. There was no way. 

The store was packed with shelves upon shelves of explicit adult toys. Shapes and sizes beyond human comprehension flickered in the dim lighting. The back wall of the show was lined with leashes, collars, paddles and all types of things Lydia couldn’t identify. Another corner was devoted entirely to costumes, from sexy nuns to alien captive; everything and anything had been regurgitated by the notorious consumerist manifesto, created to satisfy the minds of even the most niche deviant. 

Lydia felt herself backing into the door, which had swung shut behind her. How had this place not specified their content on the advertisement? This was starting to feel like a nightmare. 

‘May I help you?’ 

Lydia yelped, whipping around to find a kindly woman smiling at her. Although it was difficult to tell, her hair looked as if it would be neon pink in normal light. Dressed head-to-toe in a faux leather crop top and leggings, she looked the perfect sales-woman for such a store. A large silver belly-button piercing contrasted shockingly against her stunning dark skin; a pair of pink-tinged glasses sat atop her nose making her eyes appear almost violet. A smiley piercing poked out above white pointed teeth, sparkling in the light. 

‘Uh-,’ Lydia started buffering. ‘I’m here about a job position...I think, but I-’

‘Oh, you must be Lydia!’ The woman’s smile only grew wider which seemed impossible. She shook Lydia’s hand violently, practically bouncing in her ruby platforms. ‘Name’s Ginger, I’m the floor manager today! Come through, I’ll get ya settled!’ She threw an arm around Lydia, hurrying her into the backroom. ‘JACQUES?!’ She bellowed, indicating a shredded leather armchair for Lydia to perch in, ‘GET YOUR BONY ASS IN HERE!’ 

‘Arrgh putain!’ A slim, bald man sauntered into the room. He too was dressed head-to-toe in various leather clothing items, but his were in far better condition than Gingers. ‘What eez with ze loud racket, huh?’ He twirled an obnoxiously sleek moustache between slim fingers adorned with various rings. His sunken eyes locked themselves on the newcomer, a confused browbone lowered to illustrate his complexion. ‘Eh? Who eez this?’ 

‘ _ This _ is  _ Lydia, _ ’ Ginger boasted, grabbing some odd mugs and pouring a lavender scented substance into each one. It was smoking. ‘She’s our new intern!’ 

‘Ah eet eez about time, non?’ Jacques threw himself into the seat next to Lydia, looking at her with peaked interest. ‘She eez a fine woman, very  _ enchanting _ .’

‘Ain’t she a peach?’ Ginger giggled, snatching the form from Lydia’s hands, throwing it into an empty filing cabinet. ‘And to think, the boss had almost given up looking for someone!’ She shoved one of the mugs into Lydia’s palms, downing her own in one, letting out a loud screech of satisfaction. 

‘The boss…?’ Lydia piped up, hugging the chipped mug to her chest. It depicted a large pair of breasts, the left one sporting an obnoxious pin-up tattoo. 

“Yeah, the big man,’ Ginger perched on the arm of Lydia’s seat. ‘He opened this place years ago but has always been horrifically understaffed.’ She rolled her eyes, biting her lip in frustration. ‘It’s pretty much been meself and Jacques for the past four years, can you imagine? Us two, running a business!’ She snorted into her drink, taking a large swig. 

‘Oui, we are utterly useless!’ Jacques pulled a wad of stuffing from the chair, blowing it away. ‘Am surprised ze business eez still going what wiz us and no customers.’ 

Lydia felt her heart sink. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a long term solution. 

‘Umm,’ she shifted her knees a little awkwardly. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, how are you still open if no one comes?’ 

‘Oh we have our regular patrons, don’t you fret!’ Ginger waved a hand, dismissing any anxiety with ease. ‘We supply a lot for most of the clubs here, plus most people just order delivery these days. It’s a quiet life, ironically.’ 

‘And ze pay eez pretty substantial,’ Jacques drank deeply from his mug. 

‘So, what’cha say?’ Ginger bouncer her legs excitedly. ‘Are ya game or are ya game?’ 

Considering the desperation from both parties, it seemed like the perfect fit. Lydia’s mind floated for a minute, thinking of the kind barista this morning and a life of coffee making for the masses…

‘Why not,’ she grinned, shaking away the thoughts of free coffee. It was too cold to stand out there anyway. ‘I’m in!’ 


End file.
